Love Amongst The Toasters
by Red Witch
Summary: The Figgis Agency finds gossip about one of their least likely members.


**The disclaimer telling all of you that I don't own any Archer characters is making toast. Just some tiny madness from my tiny little mind. **

**Love Amongst The Toasters **

"Wait," Cheryl said as she sat down with Pam in the bullpen. "Ms. Archer got kicked out of her apartment building? And now she's practically living with Archer in his hotel room?"

"Hospital room," Pam corrected. "And yes, she is."

"That means Ms. Archer is technically homeless!" Cheryl gasped. Then started to laugh.

"I know," Pam smirked. "It is kind of funny. And sad that she and Archer are both living together."

"Yeah," Cheryl sighed. Then both women started to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Cyril asked as he and Ray walked up to them.

"The fact that both Archer and his mother are technically homeless," Cheryl said.

"Well you're just a bucket full of compassion and sunshine aren't you, Mother Teresa?" Ray remarked. "And they're technically **not** homeless. They just happen to live together in the same hospital room."

At this the four of them started to laugh. "Okay maybe that's a **little funny**?" Cyril snickered. "Considering how much she and Archer used to lord over how much better their lives were than ours."

"What's really sad is that Ms. Archer blindly kicked Ron to the curb," Ray remarked.

"She didn't kick him," Pam pointed out. "He ran like my Uncle Phil from his creditors and two baby mamas who wanted child support. I wonder how he is? Last I heard he was hiding out in Canada working as a lumberjack."

"Speaking of lumberjacks," Cheryl realized something. "Where's Lana Bunyan?"

"I don't know," Cyril admitted. "She's doing something I guess."

"Way to manage the office Cyril," Pam rolled her eyes.

"I'm not knocking it," Cheryl said. "It's easier to talk about her behind her back. Too bad there's nothing interesting about her to say."

"Yeah, the office gossip around here is dryer than Ms. Archer's tampons," Pam remarked.

"That's the only thing about her that **is **dry," Ray said. "The way she drinks she probably supports ten percent of the alcohol industry."

"I heard that Glengoolie's sales are starting to get a little stale," Pam said. "That their sales have gone down at least five percent."

"Did this start around the time Archer went into the coma?" Ray asked.

"Now that you mention it…" Pam realized.

"Ugh, **boring**!" Cheryl rolled her eyes. "Isn't there anything more interesting to talk about? I need fresh gossip!"

"**What** gossip?" Cyril snapped. "We're together nearly twenty-four-seven! Siamese twins have more privacy. What could there possibly be that's new that we don't **already know** about?"

THWAP! THWAP! THWAP!

THUNKA! THUNKA! THUNKA!

TOAST!

SHHOWW!

Milton scooted into the room, spewing out toast and zooming at the highest speed a robot toaster could run. While being chased by a mail robot spewing out letters and small packages at him.

"**That's **new," Pam blinked.

"The mail robot?" Cheryl asked confused.

"We've had that mail robot for a while now," Pam explained to her. "Remember when we sort of accidentally caused the business next door to shut down?"

"Oh right," Cheryl nodded. "Now I remember."

"You **do**?" Cyril asked.

THUNKA! THUNKA! THUNKA!

"Yes!" Cheryl said. "The mail robot is Milton's girlfriend."

THUNKA! THUNKA! THUNKA! SHOOOM!

"Well it used to be," Cheryl remarked as the mail robot chased Milton out of the room.

"Leaving toast and mail everywhere," Cyril groaned. "We're gonna get ants."

"You mean **more ants**?" Pam asked.

"What?" Cyril looked at Pam.

"Nothing," Pam coughed.

"What is going on?" Ray asked.

"The mail robot caught Milton flirting with the new toaster," Krieger explained as he walked in.

"When did we get a new toaster?" Pam asked.

"This morning," Ray said. "Didn't you notice?"

THUNKA! THUNKA! THUNKA!

TOAST! TOAST!

"I was trying some new bearclaws," Pam admitted. "From the new café next door. Didn't see the need to heat them. Why did we get a new toaster?"

"I got tired of running around looking for Milton every time I wanted to toast something!" Cyril snapped. "So, I got a toaster."

"You bought **another toaster**?" Ray asked.

"No," Cyril indicated Cheryl with a nod of his head. "I **got **one."

Pam did a double take. "You **stole **one of Cheryl's toasters?"

"She has like twelve of them in her kitchen!" Cyril snapped. "Why waste money?"

THUNKA! THUNKA! THUNKA!

"Is it that black and green one?" Cheryl asked. "The one that looks a little bit like a green bug?"

"That is one of the newer ones," Cyril admitted. "I took that one."

"That's not a problem," Cheryl waved. "I was planning on using that one to start an electrical fire anyway."

"I still don't see why you had to get a new toaster," Pam said. "That could have hurt Milton's feelings!"

Milton zoomed back into the room still being chased by the mail robot. "Apparently Milton doesn't mind," Ray remarked. "But the mail robot does."

"Great! There's toast and mail all over the floor!" Cyril groaned as he picked some mail up. "Which isn't ours."

"What?" Ray asked.

"This isn't our mail," Cyril looked at everything. "Of course, it's mostly junk. Real estate flyer. Real estate flyer. College flyer. Political flyer. Store closing flyer…"

"Which store?" Pam asked.

"Mears," Cyril said.

"Pass," Pam groaned.

Cyril went through the mail as he picked them up. "Real estate flyer. Catalog for some travel company I never heard of. Catalog for some clothing store I never heard of. Ooh! Free sample of toothpaste! Dente, when you want the breath of Italy."

"If I wanted that I'd just eat some garlic bread," Pam remarked. "That is good with breakfast by the way."

"Is there anything you **won't eat?"** Ray was stunned.

"Is the clothing store men's or women's?" Cheryl asked.

"Women's," Cyril said.

"I'll take that," Cheryl held out her hand. Cyril gave it to her.

"Cheryl! You can't steal someone else's mail!" Pam gasped.

"This isn't mail," Cheryl said. "It's all ads and catalogs that nobody asked for. This is just spam in physical form."

"Still somebody might want it," Krieger remarked.

"Who would want toothpaste that makes your mouth smell like lasagna?" Ray asked.

Cheryl spoke up. "Garfield the Cat!"

THUNKA! THUNKA! THUNKA!

TOAST! TOAST! TOAST!

Cyril read the addresses. "They all say resident."

"That's **us**!" Ray said. "We're residents!"

"Yeah but the address is for the building down the street," Cyril blinked. "Which leads me to the question of how it got here in the first place?"

"Some questions we're better off not knowing the answer to Cyril," Ray sighed. "It will make things easier for us at the trial."

THUNKA! THUNKA!

The mail robot beeped a few times at Milton as they rolled into the room. Then dramatically turned away. "Watch out for the…" Krieger called out.

CRASH! THUD!

THUNKA!

"Stairs," Krieger winced.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

"I'd better let her out before she breaks down the door," Krieger went and did so.

"Why did you let the mail robot out?" Cyril asked. "Instead of just turning her off."

"I didn't want to ruin her dramatic moment," Krieger shrugged.

"Why did it want to leave?" Cheryl was confused.

"I think that means they're now on break," Pam remarked.

SCREEEECH!

SMASH! CRASH! SMASH!

THUNK….

Ray looked out the window. "Well now it's completely **broken.** A truck just ran over the mail robot."

"Sorry Milton," Pam patted the toaster. "I think your girlfriend is now gone. In every sense of the word."

Milton responded by rolling away. Pam looked where he was going. "Son of a…I think he's now hitting on the copy machine."

"Smart move," Krieger said. "Picking something that can't hit back."

"He rebounded pretty fast," Ray remarked.

"He, he, he…" Cheryl snickered.

"What's so funny **now**?" Cyril asked.

"I was just thinking how Milton has a better love life than you!" Cheryl laughed.

"That toaster has a better love life than **all **of us," Cyril looked at her.

"What?" Cheryl yelled.

"Oh God," Pam realized. "That **is** scary!"

"Now I just want to cry," Ray groaned.

"Me too," Krieger groaned.

"I just feel like eating some toast," Cyril sighed. Everyone looked at him. "Too soon?"


End file.
